


Operation: Child Endangerment

by CallieB



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Billy Is In The Scoops Troop, M/M, Protective Billy Hargrove, S3 AU, Scoops Ahoy (Stranger Things), Scoops Troop, Steve Harrington's Scoops Ahoy Uniform, the Billy and Erica friendship you never knew you needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25342543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallieB/pseuds/CallieB
Summary: In Which Billy Is A Bonafide Member Of The Scoops Troop.Ihniprompted: "What if Billy had been the one with Steve when they were captured by the Russians?" and I did something which looks a little bit like that when viewed through a very long lens.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 56
Kudos: 288
Collections: harringrove for Australia





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ihni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ihni/gifts).



> About six thousand years ago, one of my favourite human people in all the world did an extremely in-character and lovely thing and supported Harringrove for Australia in exchange for me putting some words on a page.
> 
> Months and months later, it still isn't done. But I've hit 7500 words, haven't actually reached the bit [Ihni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ihni/pseuds/Ihni) actually asked me to write yet, and decided to share what I've got so far!
> 
> I'm so very sorry that I've been so slack, but I promise you, the rest IS coming, and I AM loving digging into this story! It's just happening a bit more slowly than is characteristic for me, for which I will blame things like coronavirus, work on a certain zine we've all heard about, moving house and just a general malaise!
> 
> Anyway my lovely, I hope you like this first part! I envisage it being three or four parts in total, but we shall see. Enjoy!

“It will be the workout of your life,” Billy murmurs, and he’s gratified to see Karen Wheeler’s eyelids fluttering as she melts into a puddle of goo in front of him.

“Oh,” she twitters, touching her hair. “Oh, I don’t know, I don’t think—”

He leans in a little closer. “I’m very discreet,” he says softly.

“Oh, Billy, I’m sorry,” she says breathily. “I _can’t_ , I have a family…” She steps away. “I’m sorry,” she says again, and then she’s gone.

Billy watches her walk away. She’s got legs for fucking _miles_.

Ah well. You win some, you lose some - and there’s still weeks of summer left. Billy’s pretty sure he can reel her in in the end.

He runs a hand through his hair. Looks like he won’t be getting laid tonight, which is a shame - it’s one of the only things that makes him feel a little less like he’s bursting out of his skin with frustration. Billy can’t quite put his finger on the problem; it’s as though graduating has reminded him that there’s a whole world out there, continents to be explored, a million places that have nothing to do with this podunk town of Hawkins, Indiana. 

But he has no idea where to start. And he’s a little too afraid to try.

Well, fuck that. Billy Hargrove isn’t afraid of anything. If he’s not getting laid tonight, he’ll go out to the quarry to drink with Tommy H. They often find themselves hanging out there on summer evenings, or at least, they do when there aren’t any parties to go to. Since Tommy and Carol broke up, Tommy’s been restless, belligerent, and it suits Billy just fine.

Except that later, when he heads out to the quarry, Tommy’s car is nowhere to be seen. Billy frowns at the open space where it ought to be. Tommy doesn’t talk about home much, but Billy’s always had the impression that he doesn’t like to spend too much time there. It’s one of the reasons they’ve bonded. If Tommy’s not here, where is he? There aren’t any parties going on tonight, Billy would know if there were.

Unless he’s making up with Carol. Billy shudders at the thought.

He stays at the quarry for a couple of hours, but Tommy never shows. When it ticks around to midnight, Billy sighs, tossing his last half-smoked cigarette into the depths of the dark water below. He’ll catch up with Tommy tomorrow, after his shift at the pool.

Neil is still up when Billy gets home. Things are getting worse and worse, maybe because Susan looks more and more like she’s got one foot out the door every day. Billy can’t exactly _blame_ her - Neil’s no picnic to live with - but he can’t help resent the hell out of her. She’s the cause of Neil’s bad mood, but it’s always Billy who pays.

Tonight, his dad barely looks up from the TV when Billy walks in the front door. Billy takes it as the win that it is, and hurries up to his room.

But he doesn’t catch up with Tommy the next day. They’re supposed to meet after Billy’s done with work, but Tommy doesn’t show. Billy heads to a party at Liv Fisher’s place that night, gets drunk, hooks up - but Tommy isn’t there either. He asks around. Nobody’s seen him.

It’s enough for Billy to worry, a little. He tries very hard to not give a shit about people, and that’s especially easy when it’s a douchebag like Tommy H, but on the flip side of that, Tommy’s been a pretty good summer friend to him. Always good for a drink, for a party, for some company when Billy doesn’t want to go home, and he doesn’t want to lose that. He figures that if Tommy doesn’t show up at the pool the next day, Billy will check on him after his shift.

Tommy doesn’t show. Billy heads to his place after work.

“He’s not here, dear,” Tommy’s mom says at the door. She’s a spectacularly strange woman, with her enormous glasses and weird, dreamy way of talking. Billy’s not surprised Tommy doesn’t like being home. “I think he might be with Carol.”

Billy is pretty sure that’s bullshit, since he saw Carol hooking up with Graham Pussey at Liv’s party, but he drives by her place anyway, just in case. Tommy’s car isn’t there.

By the time he goes to sleep that night, he’s actually somewhat concerned. Where the hell _is_ Tommy? His mom isn’t the kind of person to worry until a fortnight has gone by, but Billy’s sure Tommy wouldn’t just disappear without saying anything. He looks up to Billy. He wouldn’t just stop talking to him like this.

Would he?

Billy’s chest tightens painfully, and he rolls over in bed. He doesn’t like the thought that Tommy might just have got tired of him. Tommy H is a fucking moron. He doesn’t get to just get tired of Billy.

He has a day off work the next day, and after an hour or so of indecision, Billy gets in his car and drives to the mall. This is the last goddamn place he’s going to check. If Tommy’s not here, well, then, Tommy doesn’t _want_ Billy to find him, and fuck him anyway if he thinks he’s better than Billy. Billy doesn’t even _like_ him.

He wanders around the fountain, in and out of some of the shops. Billy’s not really a mall kind of person. He enjoys the appreciative glances he gets from the groups of girls as he passes, but he’s too distracted to really take them in. Where the hell is Tommy H?

As he’s passing the weird little rocking horse that the little kids like to ride on, someone pushes past him. Billy flares up immediately, the way he always does at a challenge. “Watch where you’re going!”

“Sorry!” It’s a girl, tall and kind of gangly, and wearing the stupidest fucking outfit Billy’s ever seen. Billy lets his eyes travel over her body as a matter of principle; she’s actually kind of pretty, if you’re into that kind of thing.

Billy is into all kinds of things, or at least, he tries to be. “Hey, no worries,” he says, switching tack to charming in an instant. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

It always works. Every goddamn time. Something about the silky tone of his voice, the way he smiles, his stance - every girl he gives his attention to melts underneath it. They might not always take him up on the implied offer - Mrs Wheeler, for example, is a prime example of playing hard to get - but it _always_ affects them. Billy’s practised it enough to be completely confident in the effect he has.

The girl’s face twists, and she says in a dry, bored kind of voice: “Oh my God, I so don’t have time for this.”

Then she turns, and dashes away.

For a moment, Billy just stands there. 

That girl, that skinny, freckled girl in the idiotic sailor outfit, just _turned him down_. Rejected him out of hand, like his charm meant nothing to her.

That doesn’t happen to Billy Hargrove. It makes him feel something unpleasant, churning around in the pit of his stomach, something close to anger and almost hurt. What does it mean, if a girl doesn’t want him? He doesn’t want to think about it. It can’t be real, and he won’t have it.

He won’t have it.

Almost blindly, Billy starts walking after the girl. She’s not difficult to follow; she’s weaving in and out of people, towards the ice cream place by the fountain, and that’s when her uniform makes sense. Billy watches her rush into the store - Scoops Ahoy - and head straight for the door behind the counter.

He follows her. Billy Hargrove doesn’t get turned down.

There’s no one manning the counter in the ice cream store, although a couple of kids are walking away with cones in hand, so there must be someone other than the girl working there. There’s a window behind the counter leading into what must be the back room; it’s open, and Billy can see the girl’s back through it.

He moves closer, in time to hear her say: “Starcourt Mall. The complete blueprints.”

It’s such a weird thing to say that Billy stops in his tracks. Curious, he slides behind the counter, out of sight of the window but close enough to listen in.

“Not bad,” says another voice. It sounds young.

“So, this is us, Scoops,” the girl says. Billy can’t see, but she must be looking at something. “And this is where we want to get.”

“I mean, I don’t really see a way in,” says a third voice, and Billy freezes.

He knows that voice. He thinks about the owner of that voice a lot more than he should.

Suddenly, the ice cream shop feels way too hot.

The girl is continuing. “There’s not,” she says. “If you’re talking exclusively about doors.”

“Air ducts,” says the kid, and Billy frowns. Air ducts? 

“Exactly,” the girl says. “Turns out this secret room needs air just like any old room, and these air ducts lead all the way here.”

Billy has heard enough. He has no idea what Steve goddamn Harrington is doing, discussing air ducts and secret rooms in the back of Scoops Ahoy with a random girl and a kid, but he knows he has to find out. Billy’s been curious about Harrington ever since he arrived in Hawkins, when Tommy H - fresh off some kind of best friend break-up - told him bitterly about _King Steve_. Actually _seeing_ Steve in the flesh got him even more interested, for reasons he doesn’t want to think about. And then there was the fight.

The fight. Billy tries not to think about it too much. He feels weirdly guilty about the fight, even though there’s really no reason why he should; Harrington totally had it coming.

Anyway, it’s just been another thing to add to the little collection of odd, Harrington-related thoughts in the back of his mind, and now there’s this. It sounds mysterious and secret, and Billy wants to know what’s going on.

He pushes open the door, and heads into the back room.

It’s kind of comical, the way the three of them jump guiltily back from the table, like they’ve been discovered doing something scandalous. Billy looks between them. He’s pretty sure he recognises the kid; he’s one of the ones Max hangs out with at school, easily recognisable because of his mop of curly hair. The girl is definitely kind of pretty, in a scraggly kind of way. And then there’s Steve Harrington.

Billy has to stifle a chuckle. Harrington is wearing the same sailor outfit as the girl, with socks up to his knees, baggy shorts, and a sailor shirt. He looks ridiculous.

Yeah. Ridiculous. Billy’s laughter chokes into a cough.

“Billy?” Harrington says, incredulously. His arms are folded. He’s not exactly Billy’s biggest fan.

“Well, well,” Billy says languidly. “If it isn’t _King Steve_.”

The kid takes a step forward. “Back off, asshole!” he says fiercely. There’s a look of intense hatred in his eyes.

Ah. So maybe this is one of the kids who was at the weird house in the woods that night. Billy doesn’t really remember anyone apart from Steve and Max and Sinclair, but he knows there were others there. Points to the kid for bravery, he guesses.

“What are you doing here?” Harrington asks. 

Billy glances at the girl. She’s rolling up the papers they were all looking at on the table. “What’s that?” he asks, ignoring Harrington’s question.

“None of your business,” she says brusquely.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart, don’t be like that,” Billy says easily.

Just like before, she bristles at his display of charm. “You’re not supposed to be back here,” she says tightly.

“Billy,” Harrington says. “What are you doing here?”

Billy shrugs, although his heart is beating unaccountably fast. Harrington’s hair looks very soft. “I was looking for Tommy,” he says.

“What, and you thought he’d be _here_?” Harrington says scathingly.

“Actually, I bumped into your little friend,” Billy replies, gesturing to the girl. “She just seemed in such a goddamn hurry, I figured I’d find out why.”

The girl crosses her arms. “You mean, I wasn’t interested in you, and you just couldn’t get over it,” she says.

“Wow,” Billy drawls, although he’s annoyed she’s seen through him. “Think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“Look, no one wants you here, so why don’t you just get lost?” the kid says angrily. He glances at the girl. “This is the asshole who beat Steve up last year.”

Harrington shifts a little. “He didn’t beat me _up_ —”

“Steve!” the kid exclaims. “He kicked your ass! And he bullied Max, _and_ Lucas, and he’s totally racist!”

“Whoa, hold up,” Billy interrupts. “I’m not goddamn _racist_.”

The kid just gives him an unimpressed glare. “Oh yeah? So why did you go after Lucas?”

“Who’s Lucas?” the girl asks.

Harrington looks at her. “You know Erica?”

“The terrible child with the samples?” the girl says.

“Right,” Harrington says, nodding. “Lucas is her older brother. He’s Dustin’s best friend.”

“Exactly!” the kid - Dustin, presumably - says loudly. “He’s dating Max, and Max is Billy’s sister, and he went after Lucas and told him to stay away from her.” He looks back at Billy. “So what do you call that, if it’s not racist?”

Billy rolls his eyes, the picture of bored indifference. Inside, however, he’s feeling somewhat nauseous. Is that what Steve’s been thinking the whole time? That Billy’s some racist asshole?

“I didn’t go for him because he’s black,” he says, trying to make his voice sound like he doesn’t give a shit whether they believe him. “I went for him because every goddamn time Max hung out with him she ended up getting me in trouble.”

Dustin snorts. “How the fuck did _you_ get in trouble?”

Billy levels him with a stare. “Do you know how often she snuck out to go see him? And who got the blame for not watching her?”

It’s a very, very watered down version of the truth. But it seems to give the kid pause for thought.

“Okay,” Steve says. Billy very deliberately doesn’t look at him. “Okay, fine, you’re not racist. Whatever. Tommy’s not here, so…?” He looks pointedly at the door.

Billy folds his arms, letting a smile come to his lips. “Oh, no, Harrington,” he says, eyebrows arching. “There’s no way I’m leaving now. What’s all this about a secret room?”

The three of them fall silent, and Billy sees Steve exchange a glance with the girl. It pisses him off, but he forces himself not to react; sometimes, you get more results when you just _wait_. He knows Harrington, better than he should. Harrington is slick, he’s a cool guy, he’s got the hair - but he’s not _smart_. Not the way Billy is smart.

“Shit,” Harrington says, proving Billy’s point.

The girl rolls her eyes. “Just get out of here, Hargrove,” she says exasperatedly.

Billy fixes her with a look. “You think that’s likely at this point, sweetheart?”

“Man, shut up!” Harrington exclaims, and Billy closes his mouth, taken aback by the tone. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

“Thanks,” the girl says, sounding a little surprised herself at Harrington’s intervention. Then she addresses Billy. “My name is Robin, in case you were wondering.”

Actually, Billy _had_ been wondering, but he just rolls his eyes like he doesn’t give a shit. “Whatever.”

Harrington ignores this. “He’s not going to leave,” he says to Robin. When her eyes widen, Harrington holds up a hand. “I know him, okay? He’s like a dog with a goddamn bone.” Billy snorts at the characterisation. Harrington’s not wrong.

“No!” Dustin cries out. He’s looking at Harrington, as if he’s responding to some unspoken communication. “No _way_ , Steve, we’re not telling him!”

“Well, what do you suggest?” Harrington demands. “You remember what happened the last time I tried to make him leave when he didn’t want to?”

Billy, in spite of himself, winces.

“Yeah, I remember,” Dustin spits, throwing another furious glare at Billy. “I remember he put you in the hospital.”

Unexpectedly, Robin laughs. “Wow, they really don’t like you, do they?” she says to Billy.

Billy shrugs, as flippantly as he can manage. “Nope. Still not going anywhere.”

“Did you really put him in the hospital?” Robin asks.

Billy folds his arms. “Hey, you tell me what _you_ would have done, huh?” he says, levelling Harrington with a look. “Let me set the scene for you, sweetheart. Your dear, irresponsible sister sneaks out of the house. She’s gone all day, and you have a date.” He glances at Harrington. “Yeah, you know, I did have places to be, Harrington. But your good friend Maxine, my sister, put an end to that idea by getting herself lost.” He looks back to Robin. “So your dad chews you out for not watching her, makes you cancel your date, and sends you out to look for her. You trail around this goddamn town looking for her, going from place to place, and finally you wind up at some tiny weird-ass house in the middle of nowhere, when out pops the regular guard dog, King Steve Harrington himself.”

“That’s not what—” Dustin begins.

“You ask him where your sister is,” Billy interrupts. “And what do you know, he tells you she’s not there. Funny thing, though - you can see her through the window! In fact, there’s a whole bunch of kids in the house, present company included.” He nods to Dustin. “They try to hide when they see you, and then Harrington tries to stop you coming in the house.”

Harrington shifts on his feet. “Billy, you don’t understand—”

“So then,” Billy says relentlessly, “you finally get in the house, and there doesn’t seem to be another adult-sized person in sight. This isn’t Harrington’s place, but somehow he’s the only one there, at a stranger’s house with a bunch of kids, all alone.”

“I was _babysitting_ ,” Harrington says, rolling his eyes.

Billy shrugs. “Sure, but no one asked you to babysit my kid sister,” he says. “No one asked you to lie when I asked if she was there. You telling me that if that was you, you wouldn’t be kind of weirded out?”

“Yeah, maybe,” Steve says. “But maybe there was an explanation, and you didn’t need to come in fists swinging.”

“Hey, you threw the first punch,” Billy says, raising his hands.

“And you threw the last one,” Steve says levelly. “And the twenty after that.”

Billy’s heart is beating stupidly fast. There’s something very intense in Steve’s eyes, something that makes him feel a way he doesn’t want to think about. He forces himself to look back at Robin. He says: “What do you think, sweetheart? What would _you_ have done?”

She tips her head to one side. “Are you actually asking?”

“No,” he says. “You want to know what I _am_ asking?”

“We are not telling you about the secret room!” Dustin says loudly.

Billy raises his eyebrows, and waits.

“Dustin,” Harrington says.

Dustin rounds on him. “No! I’m not telling him! This is _my_ thing, I figured it out—”

“Uh, I think that was me,” Robin interjects pointedly. She sighs. “Look, Steve says he’s not going anywhere, and short of calling the cops—”

“Yes! Call Hopper!” Dustin exclaims. “He arrested him that night too, he hates Billy as much as we do.”

That stings. Billy lets his mouth fall into a smile, to pretend that it doesn’t, but something tightens in his chest at Dustin’s words. Everyone hates Billy Hargrove.

“If we call Hopper, we’ll have to tell him what we’re doing,” Steve says to Dustin.

Dustin’s mouth twists. “Oh, yeah. Shit.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “Jesus, you three need to get your shit together.”

“Shut up!” Dustin says.

“Dustin, cool it,” Steve says. He turns to Billy. “Dustin heard a recording of Russians—”

“Steve!” Dustin interjects, mouth dropping open. “No!”

This time, it’s Steve’s turn to roll his eyes. “He has this super radio,” he tells Billy. “He found this weird frequency, and we translated what they were saying.”

Billy blinks at him. “You translated Russian?”

“ _I_ translated Russian,” Robin says tartly.

“Okay, so what did it say?” Billy asks.

Steve gestures towards the rolled up papers under Robin’s arm. “They have these mysterious boxes in some kind of secret room in the mall,” he says. “We think they’re spies.”

Now an incredulous smile is beginning to spread across Billy’s face. “Spies?”

“Spies,” Dustin repeats firmly. “We’re going to track them down and find out what they’re doing here.”

“Very patriotic of you, short stuff,” Billy says. He nods towards the grate in the wall. “You’re going to use the vents?”

Robin shrugs. “That’s the plan.”

Billy looks between the vent and the three of them. “None of you are going to fit in there,” he tells them. “No freaking way.”

“I can fit!” Dustin insists.

“Well, let’s open it up and see,” Robin says with an air of practicality. 

Steve gets a ladder and a screwdriver, and Billy watches as he climbs up to take the cover off the vent. And if he’s appreciating the sight of Steve’s ass in those ridiculous sailor shorts… well, no one has to know. He’s not even admitting it to himself.

“Flashlight,” Steve commands Dustin around the screwdriver in his mouth. He’s holding the vent cover in his hands, squinting into the duct.

Dustin hands him the flashlight, taking the screwdriver and the cover.

“Thank you,” Steve says, and he shines the flashlight down the vent. He sighs. “Yeah, I don’t know, man, I don’t know if you can fit in here. It’s like… super tight.”

“I’ll fit,” Dustin says firmly. Billy snorts, and Dustin shoots him a baleful glare before returning his attention to Steve. “Trust me. No collarbones, remember?”

Billy blinks. “Huh?”

“Yeah, excuse me?” Robin says.

Steve jumps down from the ladder. “Oh, he’s… yeah, he’s got some disease, it’s cry… uh, crydo…” He gives up. “Something. Yeah, I don’t know. He’s missing bones and stuff, he can bend like Gumbo.”

“You mean, _Gumby_ ,” Robin says, while Billy hides a smile.

“I’m pretty sure it’s Gumbo,” Steve says.

“It’s not,” Billy assures him. Steve gives him a look.

Dustin is halfway into the vent by now, his legs sticking out like an absolute jackass. “Steve, just shut up and push me!” he yells.

“Okay!” Steve exclaims, and he makes an exasperated gesture at Robin.

“He’s not going to fit,” Billy says.

“I’m going to fit!” Dustin shouts back, as Steve starts pushing his feet. “Not my feet, dumbass, push my ass.”

Billy glances at Robin, who looks the same way he feels: like she wishes she had popcorn. Steve says, startled: “What?”

“Touch my butt, I don’t care!” Dustin screeches.

Billy leans against the table. “He’s not going to fit.”

“Shut up!” Dustin yells, as Steve starts shoving his ass. “Come on, Steve!”

Steve steps down the ladder. His face is flushed. “Dustin, you’re not going to fit.”

“You’re not even trying! You’re only saying that because _he’s_ saying it!”

“Because he’s right,” Steve says. He doesn’t look at Billy, but Billy still flashes a smug smile. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Billy looks at Robin again. “Are they—?”

“Always like this? Yeah,” she says companionably. Billy laughs.

Behind them, there’s the loud dinging sound, and both Billy and Robin jump as they turn around. Through the little window that leads to the front of the store, Billy sees a small child wearing an improbably large range of colours hitting the bell on the counter repeatedly.

“Ahoy, all hands on deck!” the child says impatiently, saluting them as she continues to ding the bell. “Ahoy! Come on, get over here and serve me some samples!”

Billy stares at her. “Who the hell is that?”

Robin has a strange look on her face. “That… that’s Erica,” she says.

“Sinclair’s sister?” says Billy, surprised. There’s not much family resemblance, in his opinion. The little girl currently making such a ruckus at the counter is sturdy and confident, neither of which are qualities Billy would use to describe her brother.

“Yeah,” Robin says distantly. She glances back at Steve and Dustin, still arguing by the vent. “Hey Billy, you think _she’d_ fit in there?”

Billy surveys the child irritant. “Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

“Who?” Steve asks, catching the end of their conversation. He comes over to join them at the window. Behind him, Dustin is struggling to get himself out of the vent; Billy smothers his smile before Steve catches him.

Robin gestures towards Erica. “She’s small,” she says. “She could fit.”

To Billy’s surprise, Steve bursts out laughing. “You’re the one she winds up,” he says to Robin.

“Helloooooo?” Erica yells from the counter. “Keep looking at me, I _know_ you see me, get over here and give me ice cream!”

Robin closes her eyes briefly. “Get in here,” she calls to Erica. Erica stares. “I mean it, get in here.”

Finally, there’s a blessed silence as Erica stops pounding her hand on the bell. She cocks her head to one side, obviously considering the offer. At last, she saunters around the counter, pushing open the door to the back room.

Dustin slides down the ladder just in time to see her. “What’s she doing here?”

“She’s small,” Robin says again.

“Oh, _man_ ,” Dustin complains. “First Billy and now _Erica?_ ”

Erica narrows her eyes at him. “This does _not_ look like me getting my ice cream,” she states flatly.

“Look,” Robin says, pointing at the open vent. “You think you could fit in there?”

“Nothing creepy about _that_ question,” Billy mutters under his breath. Steve laughs, and then stops at the look on Dustin’s face.

Erica glares at Robin. “Why do you want to know?”

Robin glances between the boys. She obviously hasn’t thought that far ahead. “Uh… we’re trying to find something in there,” she improvises. “Some important boxes.”

“We’re defending our country,” Dustin adds impressively.

Erica folds her arms. “And what does that have to do with me?”

“You’re small,” Robin says.

For a moment, Erica thinks about it. Then she picks up the flashlight Dustin has left discarded on the table and climbs up the ladder.

“She’s a kid,” Billy says quietly to Steve. Steve also looks kind of uncomfortable. “Isn’t this… kind of dangerous? I mean, if you really did hear Russian spies, and not some whacked-out Soviet gameshow or something.”

“Hey,” Dustin says crossly. “ _I’m_ a kid, and I’m involved. Anyway, this has nothing to do with you.”

Billy pretends that doesn’t sting. “Whatever, short stack.” Dustin glowers at him.

“Hmm,” Erica says. She has the flashlight directed down the vent, and they all turn their attention back to her. She clambers back down from the ladder, clicking off the light. “Yeah, I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if you can fit?” Dustin asks.

She gives him a disparaging look. “Oh, I can fit,” she says. “I just don’t know if I want to.”

Robin’s arms are folded in a way that clearly indicates how much Erica is irritating her. “Are you claustrophobic?” she asks with exaggerated concern.

Erica snorts. So does Billy. “I don’t have phobias,” she says scornfully. 

“Okay,” Steve says. Billy tries not to look at him; the fucker looks both ridiculous and kind of adorable in his uniform. “Well, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is,” Erica says, “I still haven’t heard what’s in this… for Erica.”

It takes a lot of balls to refer to yourself in the third person at the age of ten. Billy can’t stifle his laughter anymore, even as Steve shuts his eyes in pure frustration. “Girl’s got a point,” he says.

“Wow, thanks for your help,” Dustin says aggressively.

Billy rolls his eyes. “You going to keep this up all day, mophead? Get the girl some ice cream.”

“Now we’re talking,” Erica says triumphantly. “I think I want… strawberry shortcake. And peppermint. And vanilla.”

“You want whipped cream with that?” Steve says through gritted teeth.

Erica folds her arms. “I wasn’t finished.”

“Get her something of everything,” Billy says abruptly. “Give her wafers and whipped cream and put a cherry on top, huh, Harrington? You want her to do you a favour, you’ve gotta play nice.”

“I like _him_ ,” Erica says thoughtfully, pointing a bright blue fingernail in Billy’s direction. “ _He_ knows how to negotiate. _Ne-go-ti-ate_ ,” she repeats meaningfully to Steve and Robin.

Steve rolls his eyes, more at Billy than at Erica, but he heads out to the storefront to start slinging ice cream. Billy glances between Dustin - still radiating with righteous indignation at Billy’s mere presence at the store - and Robin, who has a thoughtful kind of look on her face. Then he follows Steve out into the store.

Ten minutes later, all five of them are sitting at a booth. Every inch of the Fornica table is covered in tubs of ice cream, studded with bright scarlet cherries and mounds of whipped cream. Steve, it seems, took Billy seriously. 

Erica sits right in the middle of them, dipping her spoon into various cups. “So what is it you want me to do?” she asks.

“Well, we saw some Russians guarding these weird boxes at the delivery entrance to the mall,” Dustin explains. “Kind of crazy, because he had a gun, and then we translated—”

“ _I_ translated,” Robin interjects.

Dustin rolls his eyes. “ _Robin_ translated this Russian message I heard on my super radio, and we think they’re spies.”

“They think spies,” Billy tells Erica. “I’m not convinced.” 

“They’re spies!” Dustin inists. “So we need you to crawl through the vents and let us in so we can investigate.”

Erica looks at him disdainfully. When Steve pushes a large sundae towards her, she slides it right back across the table. “More fudge, please,” she says. Steve gives her a look; she waves a hand at him. “Go on!”

“You heard the woman,” Billy says gleefully. Steve glares at him, but he picks up the sundae and heads back to the counter.

Robin has clearly had enough of the bullshit. She pulls out the map of the vents. “Alright,” she says. “You see this? This is the route you’re going to take.” She traces the thick red line marked on the paper. “Then we just wait ‘til the last delivery goes out tonight, then you knock out the grate, jump down, open the door.”

“Wait, _that’s_ your plan?” Billy interjects.

“Yeah,” Dustin says. “Shut up.”

Billy raises his hands defensively, and shuts up.

“Then you find out what’s in those boxes?” Erica asks.

“Exactly,” Robin says.

Erica looks supremely unimpressed. “Mm-hmm,” she says. “And you say this guard is armed?”

Dustin says, in a tone obviously meant to be reassuring: “Yes, but he won’t be there.”

“And booby traps?” Erica asks. Billy stifles another snort of laughter.

“Booby traps?” Robin repeats doubtfully.

Erica gives her a look like she’s an idiot. “Lasers, spikes in the wall?” Dustin and Robin both start to dismiss the concept of booby traps, but Erica cuts across them. “You know what this half-baked plan of yours sounds like to me? _Child endangerment_.”

“Because it is,” Billy mutters.

Robin gives him a hard look. “We’ll be in radio contact with you the whole time,” she tells Erica.

“Uh uh!” Erica exclaims, waving a finger in Robin’s direction. “Child. Endangerment!”

Dustin huffs a sigh. “Erica,” he says. When she turns to look at him, he gives an unconvincing grin. “Hi. Uh, we think these Russians want to do harm to our country, great harm. Don’t you love your country?”

“You can’t spell America without Erica,” Erica says, picking up her milkshake.

There’s a pause while Dustin processes this. Billy leans back, enjoying the show; Erica slurps loudly on her straw. “Uh… yeah, oddly, that’s totally true,” Dustin says. “So don’t do this for us, do it for your country! Do it for your fellow man. Do this for America, Erica.”

“Ooh, I just got the chills,” Erica says, putting down her cup. When Dustin begins to smile, she holds up a hand. “Oh yeah, from this float, not your speech. You know what I love most about this country? Capitalism. Do you know what capitalism is?”

“How the fuck do _you_ know what capitalism is? You’re eight years old!” Billy exclaims.

She levels him with a glare. “I’m ten,” she says. “And it means that this is a free market system, which means people get paid for their services depending on how valuable their contributions are. And it seems to me, my ability to fit into that little vent is very very valuable to you all. So if you want my help, this USS Butterscotch better be the first of many. And I’m talking free ice cream… for _life_.”

“Wow, you extortionist,” Robin says, sounding a mix of exasperated and impressed.

“Hey, you’re asking me to risk my life,” Erica says, just as Steve approaches the table. The sundae in his hands is drenched in so much fudge sauce that Billy’s developing diabetes just looking at it. “Is that for me?” 

Steve slides the sundae across the table. “Yup.”

Erica digs in, but Billy frowns. He says quietly to Robin and Steve: “You know, we _are_ asking her to risk her life.”

“Technically, _we’re_ asking her,” Steve points out. “Not you.”

“Okay, fine,” Billy says, annoyed. “ _You’re_ asking her. The point is, she’s a ten-year-old kid, and you’re asking her to crawl around in a bunch of tiny vents looking for armed Russian spies.”

Dustin, overhearing this, cuts in: “I already told you, the guard won’t be there!”

“How do you know?” Billy asks. “What if she gets stuck in the vents? What if she runs out of air?”

Robin blinks at him. “Billy,” she says. “They’re _air vents_.”

“Okay, sure, but you have no idea if they’re all working properly,” Billy argues. “I’m just saying, this isn’t the safest plan.”

“It’s a brand new mall,” Dustin says. “She’ll be fine.”

Erica points a spoon at him. There’s fudge sauce all around her mouth. “I can hear you, you know.”

“What are you saying, Billy?” Steve asks quietly, and it’s almost like he cares about the answer. “You think she shouldn’t go?”

“I don’t know,” Billy says uncomfortably. He glances at Robin. “It’s like Dustin says, man, this is your plan.”

The truth is… Well, the truth is, he _doesn’t_ think Erica should go, not really. He can’t imagine anything worse than crawling into a tiny vent for God knows how long, with no idea when it’ll end or if he could get stuck at any moment - Jesus, even the thought gives him the shivers. And that’s not to mention what could be waiting at the other end. But this isn’t Billy’s show, and besides, he wants to know what’s going on as much as any of them.

Fuck it. Not his circus, not his monkeys.

“Okay,” Dustin says authoritatively. He clearly doesn’t have any qualms about sending a ten year old into a vent, but then, he’s barely older than ten himself. “We have to wait until it’s dark, so we’ve got a few hours to kill. We need to get supplies. Erica needs protective gear, and flashlights.”

Robin rolls her eyes. “We still have to work, dingus,” she says.

“Me and Erica will get them then,” Dustin begins, but Erica shakes her head firmly.

“I’m a commodity in this situation,” she says. “Do you think the United States government sends their commodities out to get supplies? No. They pay for their commodities, and I am being paid with free ice cream, and I’m going to sit here and _enjoy_ it.”

Billy suppresses a snort. 

Dustin looks peeved. “I guess I’ll get the supplies on my own,” he says crossly, with a reproachful look at Steve. “I have some knee pads at home, and a helmet.”

“I’ll drive you,” Billy says without thinking.

“Uh, _no thanks_ ,” Dustin scoffs, turning scornful eyes onto Billy. “I think I’ll pass.”

There’s a silence. It’s awkward. Billy just rolls his eyes, like it doesn’t matter either way, but in truth the rejection stings a little; it’s not like he gives a shit about the little idiot, but he doesn’t like feeling like he’s on the outside of things. Jesus Christ, this is why he’d spent so much energy dethroning Harrington in the first place - Billy likes to be top dog.

Then Harrington says, hesitantly: “It’s not the worst idea, Dustin.”

Dustin’s mouth drops open. “You want me to _get in a car alone_ with that psycho?” he demands indignantly. He shakes his curly head. “Jesus Christ, Steve! You want to talk about _child endangerment_ , put me in a car with him!”

“He doesn’t like you, huh?” Erica observes, around a spoonful of triple chocolate.

“I scared the shit out of your brother,” Billy tells her.

Erica, as he suspected she might, cackles with laughter. “Did he deserve it?”

“No!” Dustin exclaims furiously.

Billy shrugs, and nods. “Yeah, probably not,” he concedes.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters.

Dustin ends up cycling home alone for the supplies. Billy’s not going to push his help on the kid if he doesn’t want it; instead, he winds up sitting in the booth with Erica, eating ice cream and watching Steve and Robin bickering behind the counter as they serve customers. It’s not how he would usually choose to spend the afternoon on his day off, trading insults with a ten-year-old, but it’s actually not too bad. Erica makes him laugh.

Also, from this angle he can watch Steve, and Billy… well, he kind of likes that. Even if he doesn’t want to think about why.

Dustin ignores the pair of them when he finally returns, heading straight for the back room with his bulging backpack, although he can’t resist throwing Billy a glare as he passes by. Billy meets Erica’s eyes, and they both snort into their strawberry ices.

At last, however, the last customers go home, and the other stores in the mall begin shutting up shop. Billy and Erica, bloated with too much ice cream, drift into the back of Scoops Ahoy, where Steve, Dustin and Robin are rolling out the map of the vents again.

“Erica,” Dustin says, pointedly ignoring Billy. “I got you some protective gear.”

She looks skeptically at the helmet he’s holding out to her; two flashlights are taped on either side. “Uh huh,” she says.

“Hey, looks like you’ll be protected from all those falls you’re going to have in the vents,” Billy snorts to her. Robin and Erica both laugh; Dustin looks annoyed.

“It’s for the light, asshole,” he says. Billy nods seriously. He’s on a bit of a sugar high.

Robin gestures to the map. “Do you think you know the way?”

“Erica doesn’t get lost,” Erica says confidently. Billy can’t help but snigger. He’s getting to kind of love the way she refers to herself. Hell, he’s always been a pretty confident kid himself, but Erica’s got balls he never had.

“Okay, so we’ll be outside waiting for you to open the door,” Dustin says to her, not for the first time. “We’ll be in radio contact the whole time, so you don’t have anything to worry—” He trails off at the glare she gives him at that. “—well, whatever,” he finishes, somewhat lamely. “When you get there, unlock the door and we’ll come in and take it from there.”

Billy scratches his head. He’s still not feeling totally sold on letting Erica do this on her own, but it seems that he’s the only one with concerns - and truthfully, Erica can probably take care of herself better than any of them could take care of her. It’s just Billy being Billy, because he knows what it’s like to be a kid and think you know everything, and he knows just how easily the world can slap you down until you realise how wrong you were.

Still. He shakes the feeling away. This isn’t Neil fucking Hargrove, this is just a handful of Russians. How bad could it be?

When he glances away from Erica, he realises that Harrington is watching him, eyes just slightly narrowed. When Billy catches his eye, he says quietly: “You alright, Billy?”

“Yeah,” Billy says, with a laugh and an eye roll to cover up his discomfiture at the fact that Steve _noticed_. “Let’s get this show on the road, huh?”

Dustin gives him a dirty look. “You could stay here if you’re so worried,” he says acidly.

At that, Billy really does laugh. “Not a chance, mophead.”

“Enough,” Steve says warningly, when Dustin opens his mouth to retaliate. “Let’s get going.”

So they leave Erica alone in Scoops Ahoy, making their way around to the back of the mall where the storeroom apparently is, and as they walk Billy wonders why Steve is even slightly tolerating him being here. Sure, he doesn’t have a choice - but it would be kind of nice to imagine that Steve actually _wants_ him here.

As if. Billy snorts to himself, disgusted at the idle thought. What a goddamn moron.

There’s an iron ladder up the side of a building opposite the locked double doors, and Billy scales it last, after Robin, Dustin and Steve have made their way up onto the roof to observe. It’s a pretty clear indication of where he comes in the group’s pecking order. Billy grinds his teeth furiously.

They settle behind the low wall edging the roof, and then Dustin gets out his walkie talkie and hands it to Robin. She says: “Erica, do you copy?”

The response is almost immediate, the sass discernible even across the airwaves. “Mmhmm, I copy,” she replies. “You nerds in position or what?”

Billy chokes on a laugh. Robin looks kind of pissed off. “Yeah, we’re in position,” she says, glancing at Dustin. He has binoculars practically glued to his face. “It’s all quiet here, so you’ve got the green light.”

“Green light. Roger that,” Erica says in a determined sort of voice. “Commencing Operation: Child Endangerment.”

“Can we maybe not call it that?”Robin says exasperatedly.

Billy snorts. “If the shoe fits,” he murmurs. Steve shoots him a quick glance.

Erica ignores both of them. “See you on the other side, nerds.”

She stops talking then, but it’s not silent. Billy can hear her panting, the clang of her body against the metal of the vent as she hauls herself along, and he finds that his heart is thudding painfully. He reaches across Dustin and Steve, rapping Robin on the shoulder. “Give me that,” he commands, gesturing at the walkie.

She frowns at him, but hands it over. Billy brings it close to his face, listening as Erica moves through the air ducts. She’s a goddamn kid, and he… he _let_ her.

He wants to ask her how she’s doing, but she needs all her focus on what she’s doing, and he’ll look like an idiot if he does. So he just stays silent, waiting as she puffs out breaths and rattles inside a tiny metal tube that could easily suffocate her, until at last she says: “Alright, nerds. I’m there.”

Billy releases a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“What do you see?” he asks, mouth pressed up against the walkie.

“I see those boring boxes you’re so excited about,” Erica drawls, which hadn’t been what he’d meant, but he figures she would have said if anyone was there.

Still, he has to ask. “Any guards?”

“Negative,” Erica replies, and Billy exhales again.

Robin, impatient, leans over to grab the walkie talkie back, and Billy lets her. “Any booby traps?” she asks.

Billy can practically _hear_ Erica rolling her eyes. “If I could see them they’d be pretty shit traps, wouldn’t they?”

“Thank you for that,” Robin says, but Billy can tell she’s relieved as well. There’s a crash, and Erica lets out a cry; Billy’s heart jumps, but he knows she’s just kicking down the vent so she can get out. He’s a lot happier now he knows she’s out of those tiny crawl spaces.

“I’m in,” she says.

Steve rubs his face with his hands. “Oh, God,” he says. Billy looks sharply at him; he hadn’t really clocked the fact that Harrington was concerned too.

For a few minutes, they don’t hear from Erica; Billy figures she’s put the walkie down, although it doesn’t make any of it less nerve-wracking. Then the double doors they’re watching so intently open, and she’s just there, small and imposing in her multi-coloured clothes, and Billy can go back to pretending he doesn’t give a shit.

“Free ice cream for life,” she reminds them, and Billy can only laugh.


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, there are just no words? I mean this is just stupidly overdue, to the point where I'm sure nobody thought I'd actually do it, and it was sitting there on my mind and then some of the beautiful folks on Discord sprinted with me and I just like... did 4000 words in a day? 
> 
> Anyway, thank you all so much, and ihni, I hope you enjoy the second instalment! I will try very hard not to take so long with the next part!

“That’s definitely not Chinese food,” Harrington says, in a classic case of stating the fucking obvious. Billy just snorts. They’re standing in the storeroom surrounded by boxes, Erica still kitted out in helmet and kneepads, and Billy is just thanking his lucky stars that Steve Harrington is there to tell them all what they already know.

“Thanks for that, genius,” he says.

Steve, the moron, replies absently: “You’re welcome.” Even Dustin rolls her eyes. Steve reaches into the cardboard box to lift the lid of the weird metal container; then he hesitates. “Uh, maybe you guys should, you know, stand back.”

Robin and Erica both take a step backwards without comment. Little mophead, of course, has something to say about it. “No.”

“Just step back, okay,” Harrington repeats.

“No,” Dustin says obstinately. 

Billy sidles backwards himself, hoping no one will notice he didn’t obey earlier. Steve says irritably: “Step back!”

“No,” Dustin says again.

“Seriously,” Harrington says, his hand on the kid’s chest. Billy is kind of struggling not to laugh at this point. “Step—”

“ _No_!” Dustin exclaims, louder this time. He looks Harrington in the eyes, his expression serious. “If you die, I die.”

There’s a beat. Steve looks somewhere between exasperated and perplexed. Then he waves a hand like he doesn’t give a shit, and turns back to the box. “Okay.”

It’s funny, and Billy can tell that Robin is equally amused. But at the same time he kind of… likes that Harrington tried. That Harrington made an effort, however lacklustre, to protect all of them from whatever is inside the container. He’d told them _all_ to step back - Billy included. Billy can’t remember the last time someone made an effort to keep him safe from something.

That’s a lie. He can. But it was his mom, and he’s not thinking about that right now.

Inside the box, Steve is reaching for one of the four circular handles on top of the metal container. He twists it, and carefully lifts it up so that they can all see; Billy unconsciously steps forward again to look. Harrington is holding a glass cylinder, full of something weird and liquid and bright green.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Billy says quietly, at the same time as Steve murmurs, “What the hell?”

“What is that?” Robin asks in a low voice, like one of them might be able to answer her.

Before he can point out how stupid her question is, the room… shudders. It’s just for a second, the walls and floor shaking with a mechanical clanking sound, but it’s enough to make Billy jump. Suddenly, it feels too dark, too close in this tiny room - and he’s trying to remember why they shut the doors behind them when they came inside. He hadn’t much liked the idea even then. In case the guard came back, Robin had said, and it made sense, but he doesn’t like being in here.

“Was that just me, or did the room move?” Dustin says apprehensively.

Erica whispers, “Booby traps…”

“Of course it wasn’t just you, shithead,” Billy snaps. Even Erica’s general personality isn’t enough to make him feel better about being in here. He _hates_ not knowing what’s happening, hates being in small spaces—

Dustin opens his mouth to bite back, but the room makes another loud, clanking sound, the walls trembling, and Robin swiftly strides over to take the freaky cylinder from Steve. “You know what, let’s just grab that and go,” she says, her voice echoing exactly how freaked out Billy is feeling. He’s glad she was the one to say it.

Steve busies himself closing up the cardboard box again, and Dustin heads over to the control panel on the wall by the door. Billy works on getting his breathing under control. It’s not that he _cares_ about the little fuckers he’s stuck here with, but he’s not going to get anywhere by yelling at them. It won’t make any of them trust him.

Like he gives a shit about any of them trusting them. He straightens up, shaking the fear and uncertainty out of his shoulders. Billy Hargrove isn’t afraid of anything.

“Which one do I press, Erica?” Dustin says from his position by the door.

She doesn’t look impressed by his idiocy. “Just press the damn button, nerd,” she says scornfully. This time, there’s no rumble of walls to cut Dustin off, and they start arguing. They’re loud and biting, and Harrington gets involved, and Billy just sits down on the edge of a pile of boxes because he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care that they’re never getting out of here—

“You okay?” It’s Robin’s voice, quiet and actually sounding a little concerned.

Billy looks up. She’s standing near him, ignoring the mayhem as Steve and the kids fight over the buttons. “Yeah,” he says, trying to inject his voice with his usual confidence. He glances around. “Sure.”

Robin gives him a look like she doesn’t believe him. “They’ll figure it out,” she says, nodding towards the trio by the doors. “They’re always like this, they—”

With an ominous whooshing noise, a heavy scarlet shutter clanks down in place over the doors they used to come into the room. Billy springs to his feet, because apparently the moron trio, they’ll-figure-it-out-they’re-always-like-this, have shut them in _more_ instead of letting them out, and now they’re all trapped in a tiny metal box with a bunch of undefined liquid that could basically be _anything_ and if they can’t get out Billy is going to explode—

Then the lights flicker, and the room moves sharply downwards, and that’s when Billy realises that they’re not standing in a room.

They’re standing in a freaking _elevator_.

He can hear Erica screaming as the elevator descends. It’s going really, really fucking fast, so fast that they’re all kind of wobbling around trying to keep their balance. Wryly, he thinks that Erica has the least reason to scream of any of them; at least she has protective padding.

“Oh, shit,” Harrington says, which seems like a bit of an understatement.

Still, as usual Billy is way better when he’s actually in a bad situation than when he’s _anticipating_ a bad situation. His hand finds the wide handle of a metal trolley, and he holds on grimly. There are flashes of light coming through the corners of the room, which he now realises are open to the elevator shaft. If there are lights down here, then they’re not the first people to take this elevator recently. That means that in spite of how quickly it’s moving, they probably aren’t going to die at the end.

So why is it going so fast? Billy glances around, trying to think. He actually feels calmer when he has something immediate to focus on, to try and solve. They must be going very deep underground. They’ve already been moving for at least ten seconds. Possibly whoever built this damn thing was trying to save time by going so quickly. If they’re smart, they might even have figured out a way of using the wind power generated as some kind of power supply.

He becomes vaguely aware that everyone apart from him is screaming blue bloody murder. Billy would roll his eyes if he weren’t afraid of the g-force ripping his eyelids off. Sure, that’s an exaggeration, but still. It’s no scarier than a fairground ride really. Erica and Dustin are screeching insults at each other, still slamming their hands into buttons on the control panel, but it’s obviously not working. 

“The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over—” Billy begins. Robin throws him a look, and he shuts up.

He’s definitely the calmest out of them all. “We’re going down, we’re going down!” Harrington bellows, his face red and panicked, so much so that if Billy didn’t sympathise so much with the sentiment he’d be laughing.

“Yeah, no shit, Harrington!” Robin yells back. This time, Billy actually does feel himself laugh.

Well, why the hell not? If they are going to die he might as well go laughing. So while Dustin and Erica fight over the buttons and Harrington and Robin scream, Billy is whooping, just like he would on a fairground ride. 

He’s always been a sucker for an adrenaline high.

Then, with a shuddering screech, the elevator comes to a halt, shaking them around like rag dolls and knocking them to the ground. Several cardboard boxes fall over in the sudden stop, and Billy has time to snigger when one of them catches Dustin in the stomach. Harrington is even less fortunate, trapped in the corner with a box on top of him.

“Dustin, get this off of me!” he gripes, and Dustin does. Billy is already on his feet, looking around.

If they’ve stopped, if they’ve hit the bottom of the elevator shaft - and it seems like they have, because there’s no way the kids’ frantic button-pushing suddenly had an effect when it hadn’t the whole rest of the time - then they must _be_ somewhere. This isn’t some road to nowhere.

Why has this elevator shaft even been built? Steve said that Dustin heard Russians talking on his super radio, or whatever. Billy didn’t really take him that seriously, he just wanted to know what was going on. But the freaky green goop, the secret elevator that feels like it’s taken them into the bowels of the earth… that hits up full on conspiracy levels.

“Is everyone okay?” Robin asks tentatively.

“Yeah, I’m great now that I know that Russians can’t design elevators!” Steve explodes. He pushes Dustin out of the way to get to the control panel, his face bright red and fuming. 

It makes Billy uneasy. He says robustly: “Take a chill pill, Harrington.” Steve throws him an angry look.

“I think we’ve clearly established that those buttons don’t work,” Robin points out.

Harrington turns back to her in frustration. “They’re _buttons_ , they have to do _something_.”

“Yeah, if we had a keycard!” she argues.

Steve stares at her. “What?”

Robin rolls her eyes at him. “It’s an electronic lock,” she says. “Same as the loading dock door. If we don’t have a keycard it won’t operate, meaning…”

“We’re stuck in here,” Dustin finishes for her. Billy feels a frisson of panic shiver through him. 

“Yeah,” Robin says heavily.

Erica steps forward, with the kind of look on her face that would make Billy laugh if he weren’t stuck a billion feet underground with a group of people who hate him. “Just so you nerds are aware, I’m supposed to be spending the night at Tina’s, and Tina always covers for me, but if I’m not home for Uncle Jack’s party tomorrow and my mom finds out you three are responsible, she’s going to hunt you down one by one and _slit your throats_.”

Each of her last three words is accompanied by a dramatic hand gesture; Billy, in spite of himself, cracks a smile.

Harrington clearly doesn’t have Billy’s sense of humour. He’s red in the face, hair everywhere, and Billy… Billy is riveted. He shakes his head, irritated with himself.

“I don’t care about _Tina_ , or Uncle Jack’s _party_!” Steve yells. “Your mom’s not going to be able to find us if we’re dead in a _Russian elevator_.”

“Harrington,” Billy says automatically, because even though he’s pretty sure Steve’s earned it, he doesn’t particularly like watching him shout at a kid. 

Steve turns infuriated eyes on Billy, but before he can speak, Dustin says: “Hey.” They turn; the little mophead is pointing towards the ceiling of the little box they’re currently trapped inside. “What if we climbed out?”

Billy follows the direction of his finger. There’s a square hatch up above them, apparently the only portal in or out of this fucking deathtrap of an elevator. He rolls his eyes. They must have dropped a few hundred feet in the descent; does the kid think they can climb that far up by themselves? That hatch is going nowhere.

Apparently, he’s the only one to think so. “Shit, yeah, let’s check it out,” Steve says eagerly. His face is still scarlet; it seems Harrington doesn’t deal with shocks all that well. “Let’s hope it’s not locked—”

Billy walks over to the trolley and sits down on it. After a pause, Erica comes to join him; she glances up at Steve and Dustin, who are trying to push the hatch open. “That is _not_ going to work,” she declares firmly.

“How about a little positivity, huh, Erica?” Dustin calls over. 

Erica rolls her eyes. Billy says: “She’s right, you know. We’re not going anywhere that way.” He looks over at the wall that used to be the door they came in by. “Only one way out of this hellhole.”

“Hey—” Dustin begins heatedly, but he breaks off as Steve manages to get the hatch open, pushing the heavy metal door upwards. He scrambles up and through the hole, and Billy tries to pretend he isn’t watching him go. 

With one more glare at Billy, Dustin follows. There’s a pause, and then...

“What were you saying about climbing?” 

“Told you,” Billy says, as Steve and Dustin climb down from the top of the elevator. Dustin gives him the finger; Billy just laughs.

Robin sighs. “What are we going to do?”

Steve runs a hand through his hair. “Damn,” he says frustratedly. “There’s got to be a way out of here!”

“Why?” Billy asks, pretty reasonably in his own opinion. When Steve turns to look at him, he shrugs. “No reason there _has_ to be a way out, right? Be nice if things were that simple, but…”

“That’s really not helpful, Billy,” Robin says reproachfully.

He lifts his hands. “You want me to tell you helpful lies?” 

Steve narrows his eyes; when he speaks, it’s the calmest he’s sounded in a while, although that’s not saying a lot. “How come you’re such a defeatist all of a sudden?” he demands.

Almost unconsciously, Billy stands up. Billy Hargrove doesn’t take a challenge lying down. “You want to say that again, Harrington?” he says, taking a step forward. Harrington twitches, but doesn’t back down. “You got an engineering degree I don’t know about? The magical ability to fly? No?”

“So what, you’re just going to give up?” Harrington replies. It’s not a very big space, and they’re both squaring up to each other. Too close, too close, and Billy’s chest is tight with it. “Big tough Billy Hargrove, curling up in a corner at the first sign of trouble?”

“Guys—” Robin says, in an exasperated kind of voice.

Billy ignores her. “Who’s giving up?” he says. Harrington’s only about a foot away from him now, close enough to touch. Part of him is itching to take a swing. “You think that’s the only other option to your little temper tantrum? That’s your problem, Harrington, everything’s so goddamn black and white with you.”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Steve says. He’s breathing heavily, fists balled by his sides as if Billy’s not the only one wanting the release of a fight.

“What’s your plan, Harrington?” Billy challenges him. “Throw a hissy fit until you’re out of breath? Keep mashing buttons on that goddamn box because you’re too pigheaded to realise it’s not fucking working? Keep screaming at the ten-year-olds that _you_ brought down here to die?”

_That_ seems to hit home. Harrington jolts as if he’s been tasered, eyes widening. “I didn’t—”

“I’m _thirteen_ , and no one asked you to come with us!” Dustin cuts in angrily. He steps forward, arms folded in a way that’s definitely supposed to be threatening. “None of this is Steve’s fault.”

Billy crosses his own arms, raising his eyebrows. His heart is thumping painfully. “Never said it was, short stack,” he says as flippantly as he can manage. “But you’ve got to admit, you know, maybe throwing a tantrum isn’t the best way to handle things.”

“As if _you_ know the best way to handle anything,” Steve says crossly, but the shock and anger has dissipated from his face. 

“Yeah!” Dustin exclaims. “Talk about overreactions! At least this is actually life and death!”

There’s a pause. Billy rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat in it; for once, the little mophead might actually have made a good point. Still, that doesn’t mean Billy’s wrong about Steve’s hissy fit now, and he’s about to open his mouth to say so when Robin approaches them with a steely expression in her eyes.

She pushes a firm hand into Billy and Steve’s chests. “Step back, gentlemen,” she says. “Ease off, okay?”

Steve glowers - and so does Billy, although he’d never admit it if he was challenged on it - but they both take a reluctant, shuffling step backwards.

“I’m not wrong,” Billy mutters, because he’s never known when to stop pushing a point.

Robin rolls her eyes. “No, but you’re being a dick about it,” she says. Billy shuts up. She goes on: “Look, I think we just need to take a minute to think logically about this. If there’s a way out, we’ll find it, but not by arguing.”

“He started it!” Harrington exclaims, gesturing at Billy. Billy can’t help it; he snorts. Even for Steve, that was childish.

“Yeah, well, I’m finishing it,” Robin says in a hard voice. Steve subsides. “Look, Steve, just take a break, okay?”

Steve throws Billy a mutinous look, but he climbs back up the shelving unit and through the hatch without further comment. Dustin glares around at everyone, and then follows.

“ _Wow_ ,” Erica cackles. She’s still sitting on the trolley, inspecting her brightly coloured fingernails unconcernedly. She looks at Billy. “They _really_ hate you, huh?”

That stings way more than it should. Billy runs a hand through his hair; his throat feels tight, and his eyes are fucking prickling all of a sudden. He’s always been too quick to cry. It’s especially bad when he hasn’t had the chance to exercise his feelings another way, like hitting someone, or playing basketball. 

Well. There’s not exactly room for a ring in here.

“Looks that way,” he says casually, and walks over to the trolley to sit beside Erica. “It’s because I’m the smart one.”

He’s not speaking particularly quietly, and there’s a huff from the ceiling. Robin throws him a look. “Billy,” she says with a sigh. “Could you not?”

He just smirks at her; Erica laughs loudly. Robin rolls her eyes, and swings up to the hatch in the ceiling. Billy watches her go. He doesn’t really know what to make of Robin. She’s funny, sassy, kind of cool to talk to - and he knows full well he wouldn’t have looked twice at her if they were in high school right now. He’s okay with that on principle - part of being the cool guy is trading in actual friendships for sycophants like Tommy H - but for the first time, he wonders how _she_ feels about it. 

Whatever. She’s Harrington’s friend, not his.

“So how are we going to get out of here?” Erica says to him, once the hatch has closed behind Robin again. She still doesn’t sound particularly worried, but Billy looks sharply at her. 

“Best bet as far as I can see is, we wait for someone to come,” he says. He glances around at the thick metal walls. “Someone built this thing, right? It wouldn’t just come all the way down here for no reason. So there’s got to be a way out. Someone will come eventually.”

Erica frowns as she thinks about this. “Yeah, but won’t they kill us?” She takes on a glare. “I am not about to get dead because of you nerds!”

“We can hide up there,” Billy says, pointing to the hatch. “I mean, who fucking knows, maybe we’ll bust out sooner, but this place is a fortress, man. We’re better off saving our strength.”

She looks at him curiously, head tilted to one side. “Are you scared?”

Billy rolls his eyes. “Be a moron not to be,” he says, because it’s true. He’s not _scared_ scared, not properly, but this is an unprecedented situation. He did not wake up this morning prepared to spend the evening in a Russian elevator miles beneath Starcourt Mall.

“I’m not scared of anything,” Erica says confidently.

He laughs. “You stay that way, peanut,” he tells her. She gives him bug eyes and turns away; Billy just laughs again, but somehow it makes him a little sad. He remembers being that way - unafraid, bold… Hell, he still walks around acting like that’s real for him. But the truth is… the truth is, he’s been scared for a long time.

Russian elevators have got nothing on real fucking life.

For a while they just sit there together; Erica doesn’t speak again, but there’s a little frown on her face, and Billy wonders if that’s the closest she’ll let herself get to fear. She’s kind of a badass. For his part, he doesn’t really have anything to say. He can hear low muttering coming from above him, and he can’t shake the feeling that Robin, Steve and Dustin are all talking about him.

Well, they probably are. They’re the ones who started this whole thing, after all. He and Erica are the tag-along spares that no one wanted. At least with Erica, they actually had a purpose for her. He just came along at the wrong time.

Billy shakes his head. That’s fucking morbid, and it’s not like he gives a shit anyway. He _knows_ Harrington can’t stand him. That’s basically the point with him and Harrington. So what if he’s up there gossiping like a little bitch?

After a half hour or so, there’s a creaking sound as the hatch opens. Billy glances up. Robin comes down first, followed by Dustin. Then, finally, Steve follows them, closing the hatch behind him. He doesn’t so much as look at Billy.

“Okay,” Robin says. She looks tired. “Okay, so… so I can’t see a way out of this.”

“What did I tell you?” Billy says, lifting his hands. 

She glares at him. “We’re not giving up,” she says, hands on hips. “Just… regrouping.”

“Sure,” Billy says, because he can’t be bothered with the argument. 

Erica isn’t so convinced. “What does that involve?” she asks suspiciously. “Because I did _not_ sign up for this.”

Steve runs a ragged hand through his hair, and Billy, fascinated, tracks the motion silently. “We just have to take a breather, I guess,” he says. “The most likely scenario here is that the Russians come back to get their boxes and shit, so—”

“That’s what Billy said,” Erica says. 

“ _So_ ,” Steve repeats forcefully, “until that happens, I guess we should try and—”

“Save our strength?” Erica questions, one eyebrow sky-high. Her head tilts scornfully at Steve. “I’m pretty sure Billy said that too.”

Dustin takes a step forward. “Look, you may be getting all buddy-buddy with him, but he’s the enemy here,” he says loudly. “He’s not a good guy!”

Erica looks supremely unimpressed at this. Billy suppresses a swallow. He doesn’t give a shit what the little freak thinks of him. Erica says: “And you’re so great, nerd?”

“I’m not an asshole like him!” Dustin says heatedly. “Why are you defending him? He’s a piece of shit, and he attacked _your_ brother!”

“Dustin,” Steve says. Billy wraps his arms around himself, because he doesn’t want to hear whatever Steve is going to say next, but Steve doesn’t seem to have anything else to say anyway. Billy looks away.

Erica just rolls her eyes. “My brother’s a capital-M moron,” she says, and Billy, in spite of himself, suppresses a smirk. “And maybe you have the warm fuzzies for him, but that does not mean you have to step into his little bitch-fights. He can manage that all on his own.”

Dustin’s eyes widen, and he looks at Steve. “Are you hearing this?” he exclaims.

“Yeah, Erica, it wasn’t exactly a… a _bitch-fight_ ,” Steve says uncomfortably.

“He’s racist!” Dustin all but yells.

Billy tips his head back, exasperated. “I thought we covered this, shithead,” he says, looking at the ceiling. He doesn’t particularly want to meet anyone’s eye.

“Yeah, like I believe you,” Dustin scoffs. “Why’d you go for Lucas, huh? You said you got in trouble whenever Max hung out with him, but she hung out with _all_ of us most of the time. Why’d you only pick on him?”

Erica frowns. “That true?” she asks Billy. 

He glances down at her, heart sinking. Is he going to lose her too? Then he shakes himself, because that’s fucking ridiculous. She’s _ten_. And it’s not like he cares.

“Whatever,” he begins, but Steve holds up a hand.

“Look, don’t bother,” he says. “If you’re going to be an asshole about it—”

“Who said I was going to be an asshole about it?” Billy fires back, even though he definitely was. “Jesus, the bunch of you are ready to jump down a guy’s throat, huh?”

Robin shifts uneasily. “Maybe we should all just relax,” she says.

Everyone ignores her, which clearly pisses her off. Steve says angrily: “Just because you don’t think what happened was a big deal!”

“I never said I thought that!” Billy is feeling beleaguered, trapped, and now he just wants to hit something. Hit something, or get the fuck out of here. “It’s been a year, Harrington, Christ!”

Erica turns away from Billy and back to Dustin. “I don’t think he’s a racist,” she says authoritatively. She grins unexpectedly. “Just an asshole.”

“Jeez, thanks for that,” Billy grumbles, but it doesn’t sting too much, given the first half of her sentence.

Dustin folds his arms, clearly unconvinced. “So answer my question, then,” he demands.

Billy rolls his eyes. “Look, I don’t care about any of that shit, okay?” he says. “I went for him because he was the one Max _liked_. Maybe she hung out with all of you, but he was the one she was making moon-eyes at—”

“ _Gross_ ,” Erica interrupts.

“Okay,” Steve says. He rubs the bridge of his nose. “Okay, look. Maybe we should all just calm down. Just… take a minute, okay?”

Billy tips his head back to the ceiling again. He says, wearily: “Whatever you say, Harrington.”

For the next hour and a half, the three stooges try to bust their way out of the steel box they’re incarcerated in. They try everything they can think of, which isn’t much; Robin fiddles with the control panel, and Steve and Dustin try breaking out by force, and then get annoyed when they can’t do it. Billy tries not to watch, but Steve gets a bit sweaty while he’s trying to use one of the sets of wire shelving as a battering ram, and it’s a little distracting.

For his own part, Billy sits next to Erica and doesn’t say much. He’s feeling unexpectedly raw after all the fighting, and he hates the fact that there’s nowhere to go with it. He wants to punch the wall, or maybe punch Steve, but he can’t. He can’t do anything except sit here with a child who may or may not think he’s a racist piece of shit. He’s trying not to obsess over that.

It’s nearly eleven by the time they all give up. They’ve been stuck in here nearly three hours. Billy wants to scream.

Erica, on the other hand, is obviously getting sleepy. She yawns a couple of times, and rubs her eyes. Billy can’t help but soften a little when he sees it; after all, she is only ten years old. There was a time when eleven at night felt pretty late to him too. He says: “Why don’t you get some sleep?”

She looks at him with narrowed eyes. “I’m not tired,” she says.

“Sure you’re not,” Billy replies. “Why would you be tired, right? I mean, sure, it’s night, and it’s really freaking warm in here, and you’ve gone through a bunch of totally exhausting shit, but what, Erica doesn’t get tired?”

He can see Steve watching him, but he doesn’t look back. He doesn’t give a shit what Harrington thinks of him.

Erica laughs. “It wasn’t _that_ exhausting,” she says.

“Being scared is always exhausting,” Billy says. That he knows for fucking sure. Christ, sometimes after his dad’s gone after him he feels like all he wants to do is sleep. You get the adrenaline for a bit, but then it seeps away and you’re left with a bone-tiredness that’s so deep you can barely stand.

“I wasn’t scared!” Erica says, but she’s not properly arguing with him.

He shrugs, like he doesn’t care either way. “You think you could sleep down here?” he asks.

She eyes the small room critically. “I guess,” she says doubtfully.

“You could use your backpack as a pillow,” he offers. “Or my jacket, if you want. Like I say, it’s pretty warm down here, right?”

“It’s too bright,” Erica says.

Billy glances around. He’s pretty sure there’s no way of turning the lights off. “You can figure something out as a mask, or whatever,” he says. 

She giggles. “My mom wears a sleeping mask.”

“Yeah, mine did too,” he says without thinking, and then stiffens. Erica doesn’t notice, though, so he forces his shoulders to relax. He gestures towards Robin, Steve and Dustin without looking at them. “I bet one of these shitheads have got something you can use.”

Erica’s nose wrinkles. “I am _not_ putting anyone’s stinky sock on my face,” she declares firmly.

Billy startles himself by laughing, loudly. Dustin glares at him; Steve frowns, just a little, but Billy still won’t let himself look properly to see why. “No one said a sock, moron,” he says lightly, and Erica pushes playfully at his shoulder.

“Yeah, it’s not such a bad idea, sleeping,” Robin says. “If no one comes until morning—”

“ _Morning_!” Dustin exclaims.

She rolls her eyes at him. “Yeah,” she says. “We should get some rest. We don’t know what will happen when we get out of here, and we shouldn’t be tired, right?”

“Yeah, that makes sense, I guess,” Steve says. He passes a hand across his face. He looks pretty tired himself, like maybe his epic meltdown earlier wiped him out. He glances at Dustin. “Is your mom going to worry about you?”

Dustin shakes his head. “She’ll just figure I’m at Mike’s, or something,” he says. 

“Robin?” Steve asks.

She pulls a face at him. “I do actually have friends, you know,” she says. “My mom won’t be calling the cops or whatever, if that’s what you’re hoping for. She’ll assume I’m staying at Jodie’s or Clive’s.”

Steve snorts. “We’ll probably be in even more trouble if she _does_ call the police, because Hopper will kill me.”

“What about you?” Robin asks Steve. “Will your parents freak?”

At this, Steve actually looks uncomfortable. “Uh… no,” he says. He shrugs, but Billy is familiar with what it looks like when someone is trying to pretend something isn’t a big deal. “They’re out of town, actually.”

Dustin laughs. “I swear your parents are _always_ out of town,” he says easily.

From the look on Robin’s face, Billy’s not the only one who spots how much Steve tenses up at that. “Yeah, pretty often,” he mumbles.

“What about you, Billy?” Robin says quickly, turning to look at him. “You said your dad didn’t like when he doesn’t like where you are, right?”

Billy blinks. “When the actual fuck did I say that?”

“Earlier?” Robin says, looking slightly confused at Billy’s tone. “You said you got in trouble when your sister was hanging out with her friends without permission.”

“Yeah, that’s _Max_ ,” Billy says derisively. “My dad doesn’t give a shit where I go. He wouldn’t give a shit if—” He cuts himself off, annoyed with himself. He’s feeling a little vulnerable, trapped down here with all these people hating him. He hadn’t meant to start that thought - that true, horrible thought that he’s definitely not saying out loud, ever. _He wouldn’t give a shit if I died down here_. 

There’s a pause, and then Steve sighs. “I guess that’s the cops out.”

“If we’re going to sleep, we should post a guard,” Dustin says, which isn’t the worst idea he’s ever had - not that Billy's about to say so.

Robin nods. “Yeah, okay,” she says. “So… do we sleep down here, or…” She points up to the hatch. “If we’re asleep down here and someone comes in, we could be in trouble.”

“Yeah, no,” Billy interjects. “Sleeping on top of a freaking elevator, are you crazy? What if it starts moving again? If someone’s standing guard, or whatever, they’ll be able to hear people coming from the outside.”

“He’s right,” Steve says, which is kind of nice to hear.

Robin shrugs. “Okay, well, how do we want to do this?”

Erica takes a breath. “I am a _commodity_ in this situation—” she begins.

“Yeah, cool it, peanut, you’re not standing guard,” Billy interrupts. She settles down, looking satisfied. Steve gives Billy a funny look, which Billy ignores.

“We should all take a turn,” Dustin argues, but Erica turns cold, indignant eyes on him, and he subsides.

Billy _tries_ to hold his tongue, but even with the mophead being such a fucking brat, he can’t help himself. “I think it should be the actual grown-ups doing the guard dog thing,” he says. Dustin flushes angrily; Billy grins at him. “Little kids need their beauty sleep.”

“You fucking—!”

“Language!” Billy exclaims in mock outrage.

Steve says swiftly before Dustin can retaliate: “Enough already, for God’s sake.” He turns to Billy, looking annoyed. “Don’t do that, okay?”

Billy folds his arms. “Do what?”

Now Robin steps in. “Pretend like you’re being an asshole when you’re not,” she says.

“He _is_ being an asshole!” Dustin says.

Steve shakes his head. There’s actually the tiniest smile on his face. “He’s looking out for you,” he says.

“Oh, Jesus,” Billy says, alarmed. “Don’t be disgusting.” 

Robin and Steve both look amused, but Dustin, thankfully does not. He folds his arms and grumbles, and Billy decides that it would be prudent to stay out of it. In the end, it’s decided that Dustin will take the final stretch of guard duty, so that he can get a good night’s sleep beforehand. Billy’s pretty sure that Steve is hoping that they’ll be out of here by then. He _knows_ no one is planning to wake Dustin up on purpose.

“Okay,” Robin says. “It’s eleven now, and we should plan on being awake by six, because we don’t know how early Russian spies like to get up in the morning. So that’s seven hours to cover. Dustin, you’ll be awake from five until six—”

“That’s not a fair divide!” Dustin exclaims.

Steve ruffles his hair. “Let it go, man,” he says, and to Billy’s surprise, Dustin does, albeit with poor grace.

“I’ll go now, if you want,” Steve offers. “I’m not that tired.” He frowns. “No, wait, Robin, you should go now.”

“How do you figure?” Robins asks. Steve shrugs, but Billy’s pretty sure he’s just realised that the first shift is the easiest one, and he’s trying to be nice. Robin frowns at him for a moment, but then she shrugs. “Okay, fine, I’ll go from now until one. Billy, I’ll wake you up at one, and then you can wake Steve up at three. Everyone okay with that?”

“No,” Dustin says grumpily, but he doesn’t say anything else when Robin raises her eyebrows at him.

Erica jumps down from the trolley, sliding off her backpack. She arranges herself near the door, curled up with her head on her arm; Robin, as it turns out, has a handkerchief in her pocket, and Erica drapes this over her eyes. Dustin grumbles a little more about how not-tired he is, but eventually he settles down on the floor across from Erica.

He says sullenly: “ _She’s_ got something for her head.”

“You want my jacket?” Billy says before he can think better of it.

Dustin glares balefully at him. There’s a long pause, during which Billy catches Robin and Steve exchanging amused glances out of the corner of his eye. He waits, eyebrows raised, and Dustin finally nods jerkily. “Doesn’t mean I trust you.”

“Give it a rest, Dustin,” Steve sighs, as Billy peels his jacket off. Then, inexplicably, he makes an odd, choked sound, and turns away. Robin frowns at him, but Billy forces himself not to look. He _doesn’t give a shit_.

He hands the jacket to Dustin, who grunts at him in lieu of gratitude, and then moves over to the shelves underneath the hatch. “I’m not tired,” he says, when Robin throws him a questioning look. “Just need some… air, I guess.”

Robin snorts, but doesn’t say anything as he swings up the shelving unit and pushes open the trapdoor.

It’s not like being on top of the little box feels much less claustrophobic than being inside it. Still, for once Billy is alone, and for a moment he just stands there feeling relieved about it. It’s hard, and _weird_ , being in an environment where nobody likes him. Everyone likes him at school. The only other time he feels like this is at home.

Carefully, Billy walks over to the furthest wall. There’s a small gap between it and the edge of the elevator, but it’s not big enough for him to worry about falling down. He sits down and leans against the wall, resting his head back and closing his eyes. He’s tired, whatever he told Robin, but it’s not because he wants to sleep.

It’s just kind of exhausting spending this much time around Steve Harrington and pretending not to care.

Jesus. He’s actually losing it. He runs a hand through his hair. He wasn’t expecting any of this - the strange way he’d come across the trio in Scoops Ahoy, getting involved in their weird plans, and now being stuck in a Russian elevator fifty leagues beneath the sea. And he definitely wasn’t expecting this… this what? Crush? It’s not a crush - it _can’t_ be a crush.

It’s not a fucking crush.

There’s a noise, and Billy opens his eyes with a start. The hatch is opening, and - for fuck’s sake! - Steve Harrington is climbing through. He doesn’t look at Billy while he’s climbing through, busying himself instead with closing the trapdoor behind him, but then he goes to the wall opposite Billy and sits down, facing him.

“Hey,” he says, just a little awkwardly.

Billy stares at him. “Hey,” he says uncertainly.

Steve sighs. “Look,” he says. “Can we… I don’t know, start over here?”

“I’m not the one holding a grudge, Harrington,” Billy says, and then wishes he hadn’t when Steve sighs again. He holds up his hands. “Fine, fine. Starting over.”

“Okay,” Steve says. He scratches his head. “You were… you were nice. To Erica. And to Dustin.”

Billy half-smiles. “I can be nice.”

“Yeah?” Steve says, and now he’s smiling too, just a little. It’s kind of cute, to be honest. It makes his eyes light up. Not that Billy’s noticing, but… fuck, he’s noticing. He’s noticing, and it’s like he can’t stop.

He drags his eyes away. “Yeah,” he says. “You know, occasionally.”

“I’m sorry Dustin’s gunning for you so hard,” Steve says.

“Nah, I get it,” Billy says. He reaches into the pocket of his jeans; he’s just had the best idea he’s had in a while. Steve raises an eyebrow when he pulls out his cigarettes and a box of matches, but he doesn’t say anything. “I would too, I guess, if it was my dorky little friend.”

Steve watches him as he puts a cigarette to his lips and strikes a match. “Why did you?” he asks quietly.

“Fuck, Steve, Jesus,” Billy says impatiently around his cigarette. He shakes out the match. “Who fucking knows? It was a year ago.”

“Don’t give me that,” Steve says, shaking his head, but he’s still smiling. He nods at the coil of smoke issuing from Billy’s lips. “Can I bum one?”

For some reason, Billy’s surprised, though he doesn’t really know why. Everyone smokes in school, but the image of Harrington in his head is so clean-cut that Billy can’t picture him doing it. He digs around in his pocket, tossing Steve the pack of smokes and the matches. 

“I was mad,” he says slowly. Steve, in the process of lighting up, raises an eyebrow. Billy shrugs self-consciously. “That’s why, I guess.”

Steve blows out the match. “You were mad,” he repeats. “Mad with who? Mad with me? With Max?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Billy says, and then looks at the ground, because it’s not true. “Mad at… mad at life, for being so goddamn shitty,” he says, and then laughs. What a stupid fucking thing to say.

For a moment, there’s silence. Steve inhales a lungful of smoke, eyes on Billy. “Why’s your life so shitty?” he asks.

Billy tips his head back again. “Oh, fuck, I don’t know,” he says, exhaling. He laughs, and if the sound is a little bitter, he doesn’t think Steve can tell. “It’s not, I guess.”

Another pregnant pause stretches between them. Billy can tell that Steve is watching him, but he doesn’t want to look. He doesn’t even know why Steve is sitting here with him. Steve _hates_ him, and that shouldn’t matter, should it, shouldn’t mean a goddamn thing, but it does, and it’s pissing him off.

Steve says: “It’s pretty weird, man. You being so nice to Erica, when you’re such an asshole in general.” He laughs, and Billy can tell he’s trying to tease. “Gives me the heebie jeebies.” His eyes flicker to Billy’s, as if he’s wondering whether or not Billy will make the connection.

Of course, Billy does. He rolls his eyes, but he finds himself smiling without quite meaning to. “Jesus Christ, Harrington,” he says. “You been sitting on that one long?”

“A while,” Steve says, looking pleased with himself.

“Erica makes me laugh,” Billy admits. “She’s a bigger prick than I am.”

Steve laughs. “Is that why you’re friends with Tommy H?”

Billy gives him the finger. “I’m not _friends_ with Tommy, shit,” he says.

“Didn’t you get sucked into this whole thing because you were looking for him?” Steve asks, eyes dancing with amusement.

“Owes me money,” Billy lies, and Steve actually _cackles_. “Oh, shut up, Harrington!”

Steve mimes zipping his lips, but he’s still laughing, the motherfucker. Billy just rolls his eyes and leans back against the wall. It feels good, to just sit here and have a back and forth with someone he beat the crap out of a year ago. He never thought he and Harrington could be friends. Hell, he still doesn’t, not really; too much has happened, and Billy’s reputation would struggle to take the hit.

Well. That’s bullshit. But still. He can’t be friends with Steve. He likes him way too much.

“What is even going on up there, man?” Billy blinks at the sound of Steve’s voice. He’s still smiling, but now he’s watching Billy again, eyes just slightly narrowed. He taps the side of his own head with a forefinger. “What are you thinking about?”

“You’re less banal than I thought you’d be,” Billy replies with a grin, because he’s not ready to let go of the banter, and he’s _definitely_ not going to tell Steve what he was actually thinking. “There’s worse people to die in a Russian elevator with.”

“Wow, yeah, thanks,” Steve says flatly.

Billy laughs. “That’s as nice as I get, Harrington, take it or leave it.”

“Hey, I’ll take it,” Steve says easily. He looks around the elevator shaft. “But we’re not going to die in here.”

Billy follows the line of his gaze. The shaft goes up seemingly forever, too far for them to even begin to guess how deep underground they are. He’s been trying not to think about it too much, but a little pulse of fear slides through him nonetheless. “How can you be so sure?” he says, as lightly as he’s able.

Steve doesn’t look altogether fooled. “I’ve handled worse,” he says. “We’ll be okay, Billy.”

“Handled worse,” Billy repeats derisively. “Sure you have.”

“Believe me or don’t,” Steve says with a shrug. “Come on, it’s too early to wet your pants, huh, Billy?”

Billy gives him the finger again. “I’m pretty sure you’re the one who threw a tantrum when we first got here,” he points out. Steve rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t deny it. “I’m not on the edge yet, Harrington, don’t worry.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Steve says. And for some reason, Billy actually believes him, God help him.

He says: “We should get some sleep.” It’s not that he doesn’t want to stay up talking to Harrington, because he does - Jesus, he does - but the new camaraderie between them feels weird. Like they’re actually friends, or something, which - they can’t be, because Steve hates Billy, and Billy…

Billy feels some kind of way towards Steve, a way he doesn’t even want to think about.

“You tired?” Steve asks.

“I guess,” Billy says, although he can hear how unconvincing he sounds. “Not really.”

Steve says sombrely: “I don’t even know if I could sleep right now, honestly.”

“Yeah,” Billy says. “I get that.”

“I guess we should try, though,” Steve says, that tiny smile back on his face.

“Yeah,” Billy replies. “I guess.”

Steve nods, and they both stay there, sitting in an elevator shaft a hundred miles away from anyone, smoking and smiling at each other .

**Author's Note:**

> Come and yell at me on [tumblr](https://13callieb.tumblr.com/)!


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